Page 80 of Managing the Major

“We can return to Merrick immediately if that’s what you wish.”

“No,” she said, “I’m better now, but I need some peace and your company for a while, Alastair.”

“Take whatever time you need. And I meant what I said. I’ll take you home at any time.” He unlatched the gate.

“Am I terribly silly for being so distraught over a horse?” she asked sadly.

“By no means. You witnessed the shocking accident of a creature close to your heart. Come inside; I have a small staff. There’s a footman who is also my driver, the housekeeper, a housemaid, and my valet Carter, whose wife you met at Fairfax. They all are kind and very discreet.”

The footman opened the front door before they reached it.

“Good evening, Samuel. Can you send Mrs. Tucker to the drawing room?”

“Very good, sir.”

As she walked into the foyer, Octavia looked around, noting the simple yet elegant surroundings. The entranceway opened into a large drawing room complete with furnishings of mahogany and cream brocade, and several landscape paintings on the walls. A fire burned in the grate. She removed her hat and gloves, handing them to the footman, and sat on the sofa. As Alastair stirred the fire, a rather portly middle-aged woman came into the room.

“This is Miss Merrick, Mrs. Tucker. I’ll need the guest room prepared for tonight, and Sophy can attend to Miss Merrick’s needs.”

“Of course, Major Fairfax. Welcome, my lady.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tucker,” Octavia said. “It’s very kind of you to accommodate me without notice.”

“I’m happy to do so, Miss Merrick.”

“Would you prepare some tea, Mrs. Tucker, and a light dinner—something simple is fine,” Alastair said.

“I have a ham, sir. Perhaps a few slices with some scrambled eggs and toast will suffice? And I made some preserved apple tarts today.”

“Excellent. You can set everything in the dining room when it’s ready, and we will help ourselves.”

“I’ll let you know when the table is prepared, Major. In the meantime, Sophy will see to Miss Merrick’s room.”

When she left, Alastair took a chair across from the sofa. “Only Samuel, the footman, and Carter came with me from Fairfax, but I’ve been very pleased to have Mrs. Tucker.”

“This house is perfect. Merrick House is so big for just Mother and myself, since Richard and Valentina are gone. When he bought the home in Kensington after marrying Fiona, I think Richard wanted the privacy of a separate residence in London. But he loves Merrick dearly, and the grounds and stables are so much larger that I’m hoping they’ll move back.”

“I leased this house for the season, but with the possibility of buying it. I do enjoy spending time in London, despite what you think.”

“You are far too sophisticated to be just a country gentleman, Alastair.” She smiled. She thought of holding hands in the hackney and wished it could happen again. Looking over at Alastair, she realized his appearance was far less polished than usual; he wore no cravat or stock, and his shirt was open beneath a rather plain waistcoat and coat.

“Blister it, Octavia,” He raised a hand to his neck self-consciously. “I completely forgot about rushing out after Peter gave me the news. Can you pardon my attire? It’s rather past correction, I’m afraid.”

“I’m so sorry you had to leave abruptly for my sake. You were probably planning a quiet evening at home.”

He leaned forward as though he might rise, but offered his hand instead. She looked at it, then at him again—the pull between them was palpable. Placing her hand in his, she drew a sharp breath as he lowered his head and kissed her fingers, laying his cheek against them.

“I would do so much more for you, Octavia,” he whispered.

Unable to stop herself, she placed her hand on his bowed head, caressing the thick blond locks. “I know,” she whispered back.

The sound of cutlery and dishes from the next room became audible as the table was being set for dinner, and they separated reluctantly.

Throughout the meal, she was very aware of Alastair’s gaze upon her and the quickened beat of her heart when their eyes met. He served her, an intimate act in itself, which only heightened her emotions. When he coaxed her to eat, Octavia managed to eat some eggs, but she barely tasted the food. Her eyes kept flickering to him, to the firm line of his throat above the unbuttoned shirt, the slight cleft in his chin, the way his smile slanted slightly to the left.

Whenever her thoughts returned to dwell on the loss of Lucifer, Alastair sensed it and diverted them with questions about her childhood and talk of Valentina and her family. By the time Samuel cleared their plates, the horrible tragedy that morning had settled into a dull ache.

Alastair asked for a glass of ratafia and a brandy for himself. Octavia sipped the cordial, feeling worn and slightly drowsy after the turbulent events of the day. It wasn’t at all what she hoped might happen when they were alone.